Work Comes First
by ChiMeko132
Summary: Peggy doesn't know what to expect when out of nowhere, Jarvis demands she come to Stark Manor. /A quick Cartinelli fluff. Enjoy!


_Work comes first._

At least, that's what Peggy Carter told herself as she reluctantly set down the schnapps she had been about to take over to surprise Angie. Earlier that day, her friend had bounced through her door, plopping herself face-first into Peggy's bed and squealing into her pillow in a _rather _undignified manner. Upon Peggy's somewhat alarmed query as to what was going on, Angie had sat up and taken her hands, explaining that the producers she had auditioned for last week had _actually __called back_. It had only been a matter of time, Peggy had huffed. Who wouldn't want someone as beautiful, as talented, as Angie Martinelli?

Of course, she thought, those were probably not the first words that would come to a mere friend's mind. Probably. But Angie, being Angie, had merely beamed and given her an "Oh, shut up, English," before pulling her _friend _in for a giddy hug.

Now, as she slipped out of the Griffith, Peggy rather wished Howard had invented some sort of time travel device instead of setting his mind on life-threatening explosives. Well, implosives. Whatever. With a sigh, she hailed a cab, thinking that Jarvis had better make it good.

"Ms. Carter, something has… turned up. Your assistance is required," he had quipped, cutting the line before Peggy could so much as open her mouth. _Well, the least he could have done was explain what he needs my bloody assistance for. _Deciding to needle him mercilessly, she paid the driver and stepped out of the cab, setting a beeline for Jarvis's front door.

Peggy knocked impatiently for a minute or so, before letting her irritation get the best of her and fishing the key she had made out of her pocket. Upon closing the door behind her, she rolled her eyes amusedly, hearing the smooth tones of a saxophone. _Honestly, the man ought to put less store in atmosphere and more in covering his master's arse. _

_"_Jazz, eh? Whatever happened to American records being rubbish?" Peggy chuckled as she opened the door to the room from which the music floated.

"I dunno about you, English, but I kinda like Ella Fitzgerald. Makes me feel respectable, know what I mean?" Peggy's eyes widened as she looked at the person leaning against the wall.

"A- Angie? Who, I mean, what brings you to this… here?" Peggy spluttered, mind racing. _Did she follow me? Wait, no, that's impossible, I got here after she did…_

"Relax, Mr. Fancy let me in," Angie smirked. "Met his wife, too. Geez, Pegs, I thought you'd know better than to sneak around with a married guy."

"You- Jarvis? Well, no, he's not my— we aren't — he's just a colleague— _how did you get here?_"

"Well, I got a call today from a Mr. Jarvis, telling me a certain mutual friend of ours was getting _far _too occupied in her work. Any idea who that might be," Angie teased, tugging on her friend's hand until they stood in the center of the room. "May I?" she asked, eyes flickering up as she almost shyly placed one hand on Peggy's waist and proffered the other.

"I… yes, of course," Peggy licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry, and grasped Angie's shoulder, allowing herself to be led in a circle, swaying to _Body & Soul_. Idly, she wondered what Mrs. Fry would say. _Are proper young ladies supposed to dance with each other? _

"Cat got your tongue, English?" Peggy focused on Angie as the latter spoke softly. She opened her mouth, ready to deny it — _whatever "it" is — _but closed it all the same when she saw that _something_ in Angie's eyes;the same something that Steve's shocked face had betrayed when she had kissed him before he stepped on the plane that had taken him away from her. The same something that had refused to allow Peggy to keep saying no to Angie, dreading the little sigh of resignation when she would say no, she couldn't stay for pie.

"Something like that," Peggy murmured, registering Ella crooning in the background about surrendering herself, _body and soul. _

_… Oh, to hell with Mrs. Fry. _

"Uh, Pegs, I kinda wanted to—" unfortunately, whatever she had been about to say was lost when the other woman moved her hand from Angie's shoulder to her face, eyes locking with hers.

"Angie?" Peggy's lips twitched into a small smile.

"Yeah?" Angie asked, suddenly breathless.

"You talk entirely too much," Peggy smirked, closing her eyes as she finally surrendered herself and caught the waitress's lips with her own.

Peggy soon found herself thinking she didn't much care whether or not the way Angie was sighing into their kiss was _proper_.

* * *

><p>"Why the sudden joy, old man?" Howard quirked an eyebrow, taking a long drag from his cigarette, laying out a marked up map on the table they sat at making plans.<p>

"Oh, just imagining what Ms. Carter is up to," Jarvis said nonchalantly, hiding a smile as he sipped his tea. _I do hope Ms. Martinelli was able to make the most of those records._


End file.
